What Time Can't Erase 5/7
Title: What Time Can't Erase 5/7
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These definitely aren't mine. Characters and the plots of the Harry Potter series are property of JK Rowling.
Summary: Harry Potter is an average New York City cop. A not-so-average blond man and a frustrating case have Harry questioning everything. This fic is not AU, even if the summary makes it sound like it. It falls under the Harry Potter fanfic classification of EWE (epilogue, what epilogue?)
A/N: I have no idea how long ago I started writing it. But well, now it's finished, so ... enjoy.
Part 5:
When Harry woke up, pale arms around his waist, his first thought was that it was way too bright in his room to be the time that he normally woke up and his second thought was that yes, Draco was an arrogant git, but hate really was too strong of a word to describe the emotions the other man consistently tore from Harry’s mind and heart. Accurate, but too strong.
They’d made it to the bed sometime in the night, and Harry turned around and watched Draco sleep until he couldn’t help but touch and ran his hands through Draco’s hair, tugging on it lightly.
“Sleeping,” Draco muttered.
Harry chuckled. “You turned my alarm off.”
“So what? You needed to sleep.”
“Why do you care?” Harry asked.
Draco opened an eye and raised a single eyebrow. Talented for being half asleep. Harry figured it was a natural Malfoy trait and had been passed on through the centuries. “Pardon?”
“I didn’t mean that to sound so bitchy,” Harry immediately said. “I just don’t understand why you care so much about me.”
“Just trying to get into your trousers, Potter.”
Harry laughed and pressed a kiss to Draco’s cheek.
“Are you going to be an arse and get up, or do what I want, and go back to sleep?”
Harry shifted away from him. “Get up. But only for a moment. I need to check my phone for messages.”
“It’s a Sunday.”
“The criminals don’t take a day off, remember.” Harry left the bedroom naked, stopped in the bathroom and then found his phone mostly dead in the pocket of his jacket. He had three missed calls from Kat, but no new messages, and only one text message.
The only reason why I will not be mad that you aren’t here is because you’re with Malfoy.
Harry smiled and sent back a heart and a Do you need evidence?
Oh fuck yes!!!!!
Harry sauntered back to the room and Draco was propped up on the bed, flipping through a newspaper. He had his phone up and a picture of his chest on display snapped before Draco could move. The paper fell to the floor and Draco glowered at him.
“What the bloody hell, you wanker!”
Harry laughed and sent the picture. “Just letting my boss know why I won’t be in to work today.”
Draco smiled and then flung the blankets to the side. “Get your hot arse in this bed and apologize for spoiling a perfectly good dinner last night.”
Harry crawled into the bed and said, “I’m sure dinner would have been perfectly good, but I have a feeling that breakfast is going to be amazing.”
“Corny, as always,” Draco muttered just before their lips met and Harry stopped thinking about what could have beens or maybes or whys or how comes, and just let himself fall into Draco.
Harry did go into the station, but only after Draco had to leave and go back to his own office. He had dealings with companies in London and it was already nine a.m. on Monday morning over there. Draco talked on his phone and pulled on his clothes, told whoever it was to hold on a moment and spent ten minutes giving Harry a goodbye kiss. His parting shot was, “You owe me dinner.”
At the station, Sorenson and Kat gave him hell for the picture he’d sent, and for the prominent limp in his step. And the fact that he had a murderer loose and no leads but he couldn’t stop fucking smiling.
“He’s good for you,” Kat said. “Gorgeous. Arrogant. Witty. He balances you out in a way that I don’t think anyone else will.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“Neither do you,” Kat pointed out. “Isn’t that what you’re always trying to convince yourself of?”
Harry sighed, and then smiled. “You think he’s good for me?”
“Yes. Do I think you’re scared to let him get too close? Maybe a little. Let yourself fall in love, Harry.”
Harry smiled and went back to work.
Harry spent the night at Draco’s, and then Draco spent the night at his. By the next weekend, they hadn’t slept alone, and Harry was afraid that Kat was right about the love thing.
---/---
The boiling feeling of anger and hatred toward Malfoy lessened slightly. Malfoy was everything Harry knew he would be: arrogant, conniving, shrewd. The little bits of affection felt displaced with Draco’s character, and it was so hard to ignore his dreams. The feeling of knowing Draco grew and grew. Harry wondered for a long time if this is what other people felt when they were falling in love.
You’ll just know, was what everyone and the TV shows always said about that, and Harry wondered if this is what they meant.
He wasn’t sure. Sometimes when he was with Draco, he felt like two different people. There was this angry Harry who hated him, and then there was the loving Harry who couldn’t get enough of him.
His dreams increased. Two or three a night. The details sharpened, and most of them had Draco in them. One day, he’d run into that Weasley guy at Draco’s office, and then that night, he was in his dreams. But again, it was odd. It was back in time. When they were teenagers.
Harry thought he was going crazy.
It didn’t help that the Barnes case was going nowhere and his eighteen year old girlfriend was just another missing person. Harry had another week before they filed the case as unsolved and went on to more pressing matters.
“You’re jumpy,” Draco said one night and handed Harry a glass of wine. He sat next to Harry on the small sofa and Harry lifted his arm and Draco settled against his side and curled his legs up, feet under the couch cushion.
Harry sipped on his wine. “Do you think I’m slacking?”
“Definitely not.”
“I mean outside of the bedroom.”
He knew Draco was smirking. “Oh. Well, then no, you’re not slacking.”
“I’ve never not solved a case before. I hate this kind of stress. I know this girl is dead, I know she is, and I hate that I can’t convict the son of a bitch who killed her.”
Draco turned his head up and kissed Harry’s jaw. “You don’t have to be perfect, Potter.”
“You don’t have to keep calling me Potter, Malfoy.”
Draco smiled and licked Harry’s earlobe. “Harry.”
Harry shivered. He set his wine glass on the coffee table and turned on the couch. Draco pushed him to the couch and crawled over him. He kissed Harry’s lips, whispering his name again, and then breathed it against his neck and collarbones. Harry didn’t know why it was so important, but it was, and when Draco moved his shirt to whisper it against his bellybutton, Harry knew that he was in love. No way out of it.
Harry pulled his shirt over his head, and then did the same with Draco’s. They weren’t wearing much else and Draco peeled his clothes off and kissed down his legs, whispering Harry’s name into his skin over and over. Harry wrapped his hand around his dick and stroked, eyes shut, enjoying the worship. Draco lifted his leg to his shoulder and Harry’s back arched off the couch when two fingers pressed inside him. Harry lifted his other leg, holding behind his knee and Draco lowered his head and sucked Harry’s cock into his mouth.
Harry squirmed, whimpering and pleading. One hand settled in Draco’s hair and he pulled lightly. “Draco, stop, I … fuck me, oh god, please fuck me.”
Draco pulled away from his cock with a smirk. “You really don’t have to beg me to fuck you, but I like hearing it anyway.”
Harry laughed. “Please, please, please. I want to feel your cock inside me.”
Draco visibly shivered, and he reached for the lube on the coffee table. In Harry’s lust filled mind, it looked almost like the bottle had jumped into his hand.
Harry put his leg on the back of his couch and kept a hold of his other knee. Draco poured lube right on his body and pumped three fingers in and out of him, stretching him quickly. They’d fucked earlier in the day, so it wasn’t difficult for Harry to be ready. Draco tossed the lube aside, shifted closer, and yanked Harry to him, so his hips were in Draco’s thighs. Draco held his cock down and pressed into him slowly.
Harry moaned, back arching again. He wrapped his leg around Draco’s waist and pulled him down for a kiss. Their lips stayed together and Draco thrust into him, slow and firm. It wasn’t a frantic race to come this time. Just two bodies, moving together, growing pleasure together, and releasing together. Ten minutes, and then twenty, and then a half hour and Harry didn’t want it to ever end. He never wanted Draco away from his body. Even if exhaustion stole them from a third orgasm, Harry did not want to get up. He refused to let Draco pull out of him and they wrapped up together on the couch.
Entwined and sated, Draco dozed off, breath steady against Harry’s chest. Harry held him tightly. The intensity of love and the ache in his heart changed to confusion and irritation.
It should not have been this easy to hold Draco. It should not have been this easy to toss away their differences.
Harry tried to think of what it would have been like if they had met when they were younger. He doubted they would have been friends. Draco was so arrogant. Nothing Harry did or said would have been good enough. He wouldn’t have had any money or any rich friends. They probably wouldn’t have even gone to the same school because of that. Teachers would have loved Draco’s perfect handwriting compared to Harry’s messy scrawl. Draco would turn his assignments in on time and be in class on time. A perfect student. Maybe not the teacher’s pet, because his pride would get him good grades, but his disdain for the teachers wouldn’t win him any points.
Points. Points.
Always worrying about the points.
“Mr. Potter, late again. Always late. Ten points from Gryffindor. Tomorrow it will be fifty.”
Draco smirking, cronies laughing. Always laughing, and Harry wants to reach for a weapon and blow his head off.
“Leave it, Harry,” a girl’s voice says.
It’s not worth it. It’s never worth it.
Why did I save him? Why didn’t I let him burn? Why why why why?
Flames lick up a cabinet, wide panicked gray eyes beg him and Harry has to save him. It’s what he does. It’s that damn hero’s complex. He will never let him win at Quidditch. Never let him close enough to be friends, but he won’t let him die. Not after that … not after the blood.
Blood flies from deep wounds, slash after slash after slash over Draco’s ribs.
Harry did it. He did it, because he hates him. He hates his pale hair and he hates how obsessed he is with Draco. Harry screams and screams and watches Draco die again and again
“Harry, Harry.”
Harry sat up, confused and disoriented. Draco’s face was near his and Harry scowled at him and moved away. He was on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. He scuttled back away from Draco. He wasn’t dead. That was good.
Right?
No, not good. Draco wasn’t a good person. He wasn’t. He was a pompous, all mighty git.
And yet you saved him. More than once. Why?
Harry gripped his hair and moaned. He was aware of Draco talking to him.
“Shut up, just shut up.” Harry didn’t look at him, but scrambled to his feet and tore through the living room, finding his clothes.
“Harry,” Draco said in worry.
“Shut up, god, Malfoy just shut the fuck up. I hate you, I hate you so much and I don’t even know why.”
“Do you want to know why?”
Harry stopped and glared at him, pants unbuttoned, arms in the sleeves of his t-shirt. They stared at each other, and Harry wondered suddenly why Draco was so calm.
“It doesn’t surprise you to hear me say that I hate you,” Harry said.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“A lot of people hate me.”
Harry stared at him and then snorted and finished dressing. He went to the door to put on his shoes.
“You really hate me?”
Harry paused and almost said no, and then that anger flared toward Draco. He didn’t understand it.
“You have to have a reason.”
“I …” Harry stopped and made the mistake of looking at him. So calm. So collected. He wasn’t surprised. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Draco was taking this so well. Draco never showed his emotions. Ever.
“I just hate you. It’s so deeply ingrained in my body that I can’t … This has been surreal and … I just … I don’t know, Draco, I’m sorry. I …”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
Harry scowled at his apartment door, fist clenching by his side. He felt like a teenager again. An angry, conflicted teenager who had to save the world. He tried to remember junior high. Tried to remember high school. Really remember it. And the memories flit through his mind like they always did, but they didn’t feel real. Sitting in the classes, doing homework, fighting off the bullies because he was gay.
None of it felt as real as his hatred toward Draco. None of it felt as real as the fear that slammed through him when Draco was bleeding in that weird bathroom in his dreams. He was glad it wasn’t real. Glad it was just a dream.
Was it just a dream?
Harry looked over at Draco and then walked over to him. He had put on his slacks, but they were unbuttoned, showing the top of his boxers. He grabbed Draco’s arm and said, “Who did this?” His fingers traced the familiar path over the deep scars.
Malfoy tilted his head in question. “Why?”
“Tell me who did it.”
Draco shrugged and was suddenly out of Harry’s grasp and about two feet away from him. “You can’t go on some vindictive quest and arrest him. It was a long time ago, and he’s a different person now.”
“Who did it?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why does it matter so much to you, Harry?”
“Just tell me who did it!”
Draco stared at him and said, “I told you. A classmate. It was my fault, and it wasn’t his. I egged him into it and he took out his frustrations on me. Like I said. He’s a different person now, and so am I.”
Harry turned away from.
A classmate. In school.
“He hated me. I hated him. It happens at prestigious private schools. People get jealous, they form unnecessary hatreds and rivalries that expand into their adult lives. And they aren’t easily forgotten.”
“I’m not jealous of you,” Harry snapped.
Draco stared at him. “No, I suppose you’re not.”
“That hurt,” Harry said, pointing to his chest again.
“Well, duh, Potter. A slashing like this one would definitely hurt. I was in the hospital for a long time.”
“And the other boy, he wasn’t-”
“It’s a different world, Harry. Different in so many ways. The boy who did this was provoked. I knew it. He knew it. And he was the Headmaster’s favorite. It was brushed under the rug as school boy rivalries. And it would have been if I had done the same to him.”
Harry shook his head. “That’s wrong.”
“Again. A different world.”
“Are you friends with this boy now?”
Draco smirked. “Partially. It’s hard to forget the hatred we held for each other for so long.”
Harry nodded, and then headed to the door. “If I were you, Malfoy, I would want to forget.”
“Forget what?”
Harry turned just his head and met his eyes. “Forget everything. Forget your father, forget your past, forget your business. We’re happy with our lives sometimes, but it’s too painful to remember.”
“Do you wish that you could disappear then?”
“Maybe.”
“And if you did, who would save everyone?”
Harry thought about that for a moment and then replied, “They can find someone else to do it, can’t they?”
“Probably. But it won’t be the same.”
“Why do I feel like we’re talking about two different things?”
“I don’t think we are. Are you leaving?”
Harry swallowed roughly and then he nodded. “I’m sorry, Draco, I … I can’t do this. I don’t want to remember. I need to go clear my head, but please, don’t be here when I get back. Please.”
Draco sighed. “Okay, Harry.”
Harry left his apartment. He didn’t want to remember. But what didn’t he want to remember?
---/--
One day without Draco turned to two and then three and then a week. The dreams plagued him, increased in detail and severity. There were more people, more blood, more bodies. They were fantasies that included witches and dragons and castles. Brightly colored sparks flying from pieces of wood. They all ended in fire and blood and death. War. So much death.
Harry woke up crying or screaming on more than one night, and mumbled to himself over and over that he didn’t want to remember.
At work, he was the pinnacle of professionalism. He once again filed a search warrant for Barnes’s office and for his house and captured two new laptops. Neither search got him close to solving the case, but it made Randall keep the case open.
Harry should have been more surprised when he opened his door one day and found Draco standing in the hall.
“What?”
Draco raised his eyebrows and Harry sighed and moved to the side to let him in.
“What?” he asked, a little less demanding.
“This is ridiculous.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is. You didn’t even break up with me.”
“I tell you that I hate you and I don’t want to remember you and you imply that isn’t breaking up with you?”
“You never said you didn’t want to remember me.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Why not?”
Harry glared at him. “Because I don’t.”
“Too painful?”
“Too confusing. You’re confusing me.”
“I think you’re confusing yourself.” Draco reached into his pocket and pulled something out of it, but he kept his hand closed. “You need to remember, because if you forget-”
“I don’t want to remember.”
“Do you think people will forget you? Do you think the people you have saved have forgotten you? Do you think the people you have helped as a police officer have forgotten you?”
“No, but that’s their problem.”
Draco stared at him for another moment and then went by him. He put something on his side table and then stormed out and slammed the door.
Harry stood in the middle of his living room, breathing deeply. On his table, mixed with his car keys, badge and loose change was a golden ball. Harry moved over to it carefully and picked it up slowly. It was lighter than he thought it would be and glimmered in the light. He remembered his dreams. The flying ones chasing something gold and glittery. He shook his head roughly. It was a dream.
There was an engraving on one side, written in fanciful script. I open at the close.
Harry had no idea what it meant. He put the ball down and moved away from it.
Part 6: A Flood of Memories
Part 4: A Plethora of Emotions
Part 3: A Night of Questions
Part 2: A Reoccurence of Dreams
Part 1: A Meeting of Equals
.
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These definitely aren't mine. Characters and the plots of the Harry Potter series are property of JK Rowling.
Summary: Harry Potter is an average New York City cop. A not-so-average blond man and a frustrating case have Harry questioning everything. This fic is not AU, even if the summary makes it sound like it. It falls under the Harry Potter fanfic classification of EWE (epilogue, what epilogue?)
A/N: I have no idea how long ago I started writing it. But well, now it's finished, so ... enjoy.
Part 5:
When Harry woke up, pale arms around his waist, his first thought was that it was way too bright in his room to be the time that he normally woke up and his second thought was that yes, Draco was an arrogant git, but hate really was too strong of a word to describe the emotions the other man consistently tore from Harry’s mind and heart. Accurate, but too strong.
They’d made it to the bed sometime in the night, and Harry turned around and watched Draco sleep until he couldn’t help but touch and ran his hands through Draco’s hair, tugging on it lightly.
“Sleeping,” Draco muttered.
Harry chuckled. “You turned my alarm off.”
“So what? You needed to sleep.”
“Why do you care?” Harry asked.
Draco opened an eye and raised a single eyebrow. Talented for being half asleep. Harry figured it was a natural Malfoy trait and had been passed on through the centuries. “Pardon?”
“I didn’t mean that to sound so bitchy,” Harry immediately said. “I just don’t understand why you care so much about me.”
“Just trying to get into your trousers, Potter.”
Harry laughed and pressed a kiss to Draco’s cheek.
“Are you going to be an arse and get up, or do what I want, and go back to sleep?”
Harry shifted away from him. “Get up. But only for a moment. I need to check my phone for messages.”
“It’s a Sunday.”
“The criminals don’t take a day off, remember.” Harry left the bedroom naked, stopped in the bathroom and then found his phone mostly dead in the pocket of his jacket. He had three missed calls from Kat, but no new messages, and only one text message.
The only reason why I will not be mad that you aren’t here is because you’re with Malfoy.
Harry smiled and sent back a heart and a Do you need evidence?
Oh fuck yes!!!!!
Harry sauntered back to the room and Draco was propped up on the bed, flipping through a newspaper. He had his phone up and a picture of his chest on display snapped before Draco could move. The paper fell to the floor and Draco glowered at him.
“What the bloody hell, you wanker!”
Harry laughed and sent the picture. “Just letting my boss know why I won’t be in to work today.”
Draco smiled and then flung the blankets to the side. “Get your hot arse in this bed and apologize for spoiling a perfectly good dinner last night.”
Harry crawled into the bed and said, “I’m sure dinner would have been perfectly good, but I have a feeling that breakfast is going to be amazing.”
“Corny, as always,” Draco muttered just before their lips met and Harry stopped thinking about what could have beens or maybes or whys or how comes, and just let himself fall into Draco.
Harry did go into the station, but only after Draco had to leave and go back to his own office. He had dealings with companies in London and it was already nine a.m. on Monday morning over there. Draco talked on his phone and pulled on his clothes, told whoever it was to hold on a moment and spent ten minutes giving Harry a goodbye kiss. His parting shot was, “You owe me dinner.”
At the station, Sorenson and Kat gave him hell for the picture he’d sent, and for the prominent limp in his step. And the fact that he had a murderer loose and no leads but he couldn’t stop fucking smiling.
“He’s good for you,” Kat said. “Gorgeous. Arrogant. Witty. He balances you out in a way that I don’t think anyone else will.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“Neither do you,” Kat pointed out. “Isn’t that what you’re always trying to convince yourself of?”
Harry sighed, and then smiled. “You think he’s good for me?”
“Yes. Do I think you’re scared to let him get too close? Maybe a little. Let yourself fall in love, Harry.”
Harry smiled and went back to work.
Harry spent the night at Draco’s, and then Draco spent the night at his. By the next weekend, they hadn’t slept alone, and Harry was afraid that Kat was right about the love thing.
---/---
The boiling feeling of anger and hatred toward Malfoy lessened slightly. Malfoy was everything Harry knew he would be: arrogant, conniving, shrewd. The little bits of affection felt displaced with Draco’s character, and it was so hard to ignore his dreams. The feeling of knowing Draco grew and grew. Harry wondered for a long time if this is what other people felt when they were falling in love.
You’ll just know, was what everyone and the TV shows always said about that, and Harry wondered if this is what they meant.
He wasn’t sure. Sometimes when he was with Draco, he felt like two different people. There was this angry Harry who hated him, and then there was the loving Harry who couldn’t get enough of him.
His dreams increased. Two or three a night. The details sharpened, and most of them had Draco in them. One day, he’d run into that Weasley guy at Draco’s office, and then that night, he was in his dreams. But again, it was odd. It was back in time. When they were teenagers.
Harry thought he was going crazy.
It didn’t help that the Barnes case was going nowhere and his eighteen year old girlfriend was just another missing person. Harry had another week before they filed the case as unsolved and went on to more pressing matters.
“You’re jumpy,” Draco said one night and handed Harry a glass of wine. He sat next to Harry on the small sofa and Harry lifted his arm and Draco settled against his side and curled his legs up, feet under the couch cushion.
Harry sipped on his wine. “Do you think I’m slacking?”
“Definitely not.”
“I mean outside of the bedroom.”
He knew Draco was smirking. “Oh. Well, then no, you’re not slacking.”
“I’ve never not solved a case before. I hate this kind of stress. I know this girl is dead, I know she is, and I hate that I can’t convict the son of a bitch who killed her.”
Draco turned his head up and kissed Harry’s jaw. “You don’t have to be perfect, Potter.”
“You don’t have to keep calling me Potter, Malfoy.”
Draco smiled and licked Harry’s earlobe. “Harry.”
Harry shivered. He set his wine glass on the coffee table and turned on the couch. Draco pushed him to the couch and crawled over him. He kissed Harry’s lips, whispering his name again, and then breathed it against his neck and collarbones. Harry didn’t know why it was so important, but it was, and when Draco moved his shirt to whisper it against his bellybutton, Harry knew that he was in love. No way out of it.
Harry pulled his shirt over his head, and then did the same with Draco’s. They weren’t wearing much else and Draco peeled his clothes off and kissed down his legs, whispering Harry’s name into his skin over and over. Harry wrapped his hand around his dick and stroked, eyes shut, enjoying the worship. Draco lifted his leg to his shoulder and Harry’s back arched off the couch when two fingers pressed inside him. Harry lifted his other leg, holding behind his knee and Draco lowered his head and sucked Harry’s cock into his mouth.
Harry squirmed, whimpering and pleading. One hand settled in Draco’s hair and he pulled lightly. “Draco, stop, I … fuck me, oh god, please fuck me.”
Draco pulled away from his cock with a smirk. “You really don’t have to beg me to fuck you, but I like hearing it anyway.”
Harry laughed. “Please, please, please. I want to feel your cock inside me.”
Draco visibly shivered, and he reached for the lube on the coffee table. In Harry’s lust filled mind, it looked almost like the bottle had jumped into his hand.
Harry put his leg on the back of his couch and kept a hold of his other knee. Draco poured lube right on his body and pumped three fingers in and out of him, stretching him quickly. They’d fucked earlier in the day, so it wasn’t difficult for Harry to be ready. Draco tossed the lube aside, shifted closer, and yanked Harry to him, so his hips were in Draco’s thighs. Draco held his cock down and pressed into him slowly.
Harry moaned, back arching again. He wrapped his leg around Draco’s waist and pulled him down for a kiss. Their lips stayed together and Draco thrust into him, slow and firm. It wasn’t a frantic race to come this time. Just two bodies, moving together, growing pleasure together, and releasing together. Ten minutes, and then twenty, and then a half hour and Harry didn’t want it to ever end. He never wanted Draco away from his body. Even if exhaustion stole them from a third orgasm, Harry did not want to get up. He refused to let Draco pull out of him and they wrapped up together on the couch.
Entwined and sated, Draco dozed off, breath steady against Harry’s chest. Harry held him tightly. The intensity of love and the ache in his heart changed to confusion and irritation.
It should not have been this easy to hold Draco. It should not have been this easy to toss away their differences.
Harry tried to think of what it would have been like if they had met when they were younger. He doubted they would have been friends. Draco was so arrogant. Nothing Harry did or said would have been good enough. He wouldn’t have had any money or any rich friends. They probably wouldn’t have even gone to the same school because of that. Teachers would have loved Draco’s perfect handwriting compared to Harry’s messy scrawl. Draco would turn his assignments in on time and be in class on time. A perfect student. Maybe not the teacher’s pet, because his pride would get him good grades, but his disdain for the teachers wouldn’t win him any points.
Points. Points.
Always worrying about the points.
“Mr. Potter, late again. Always late. Ten points from Gryffindor. Tomorrow it will be fifty.”
Draco smirking, cronies laughing. Always laughing, and Harry wants to reach for a weapon and blow his head off.
“Leave it, Harry,” a girl’s voice says.
It’s not worth it. It’s never worth it.
Why did I save him? Why didn’t I let him burn? Why why why why?
Flames lick up a cabinet, wide panicked gray eyes beg him and Harry has to save him. It’s what he does. It’s that damn hero’s complex. He will never let him win at Quidditch. Never let him close enough to be friends, but he won’t let him die. Not after that … not after the blood.
Blood flies from deep wounds, slash after slash after slash over Draco’s ribs.
Harry did it. He did it, because he hates him. He hates his pale hair and he hates how obsessed he is with Draco. Harry screams and screams and watches Draco die again and again
“Harry, Harry.”
Harry sat up, confused and disoriented. Draco’s face was near his and Harry scowled at him and moved away. He was on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. He scuttled back away from Draco. He wasn’t dead. That was good.
Right?
No, not good. Draco wasn’t a good person. He wasn’t. He was a pompous, all mighty git.
And yet you saved him. More than once. Why?
Harry gripped his hair and moaned. He was aware of Draco talking to him.
“Shut up, just shut up.” Harry didn’t look at him, but scrambled to his feet and tore through the living room, finding his clothes.
“Harry,” Draco said in worry.
“Shut up, god, Malfoy just shut the fuck up. I hate you, I hate you so much and I don’t even know why.”
“Do you want to know why?”
Harry stopped and glared at him, pants unbuttoned, arms in the sleeves of his t-shirt. They stared at each other, and Harry wondered suddenly why Draco was so calm.
“It doesn’t surprise you to hear me say that I hate you,” Harry said.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“A lot of people hate me.”
Harry stared at him and then snorted and finished dressing. He went to the door to put on his shoes.
“You really hate me?”
Harry paused and almost said no, and then that anger flared toward Draco. He didn’t understand it.
“You have to have a reason.”
“I …” Harry stopped and made the mistake of looking at him. So calm. So collected. He wasn’t surprised. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Draco was taking this so well. Draco never showed his emotions. Ever.
“I just hate you. It’s so deeply ingrained in my body that I can’t … This has been surreal and … I just … I don’t know, Draco, I’m sorry. I …”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
Harry scowled at his apartment door, fist clenching by his side. He felt like a teenager again. An angry, conflicted teenager who had to save the world. He tried to remember junior high. Tried to remember high school. Really remember it. And the memories flit through his mind like they always did, but they didn’t feel real. Sitting in the classes, doing homework, fighting off the bullies because he was gay.
None of it felt as real as his hatred toward Draco. None of it felt as real as the fear that slammed through him when Draco was bleeding in that weird bathroom in his dreams. He was glad it wasn’t real. Glad it was just a dream.
Was it just a dream?
Harry looked over at Draco and then walked over to him. He had put on his slacks, but they were unbuttoned, showing the top of his boxers. He grabbed Draco’s arm and said, “Who did this?” His fingers traced the familiar path over the deep scars.
Malfoy tilted his head in question. “Why?”
“Tell me who did it.”
Draco shrugged and was suddenly out of Harry’s grasp and about two feet away from him. “You can’t go on some vindictive quest and arrest him. It was a long time ago, and he’s a different person now.”
“Who did it?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why does it matter so much to you, Harry?”
“Just tell me who did it!”
Draco stared at him and said, “I told you. A classmate. It was my fault, and it wasn’t his. I egged him into it and he took out his frustrations on me. Like I said. He’s a different person now, and so am I.”
Harry turned away from.
A classmate. In school.
“He hated me. I hated him. It happens at prestigious private schools. People get jealous, they form unnecessary hatreds and rivalries that expand into their adult lives. And they aren’t easily forgotten.”
“I’m not jealous of you,” Harry snapped.
Draco stared at him. “No, I suppose you’re not.”
“That hurt,” Harry said, pointing to his chest again.
“Well, duh, Potter. A slashing like this one would definitely hurt. I was in the hospital for a long time.”
“And the other boy, he wasn’t-”
“It’s a different world, Harry. Different in so many ways. The boy who did this was provoked. I knew it. He knew it. And he was the Headmaster’s favorite. It was brushed under the rug as school boy rivalries. And it would have been if I had done the same to him.”
Harry shook his head. “That’s wrong.”
“Again. A different world.”
“Are you friends with this boy now?”
Draco smirked. “Partially. It’s hard to forget the hatred we held for each other for so long.”
Harry nodded, and then headed to the door. “If I were you, Malfoy, I would want to forget.”
“Forget what?”
Harry turned just his head and met his eyes. “Forget everything. Forget your father, forget your past, forget your business. We’re happy with our lives sometimes, but it’s too painful to remember.”
“Do you wish that you could disappear then?”
“Maybe.”
“And if you did, who would save everyone?”
Harry thought about that for a moment and then replied, “They can find someone else to do it, can’t they?”
“Probably. But it won’t be the same.”
“Why do I feel like we’re talking about two different things?”
“I don’t think we are. Are you leaving?”
Harry swallowed roughly and then he nodded. “I’m sorry, Draco, I … I can’t do this. I don’t want to remember. I need to go clear my head, but please, don’t be here when I get back. Please.”
Draco sighed. “Okay, Harry.”
Harry left his apartment. He didn’t want to remember. But what didn’t he want to remember?
---/--
One day without Draco turned to two and then three and then a week. The dreams plagued him, increased in detail and severity. There were more people, more blood, more bodies. They were fantasies that included witches and dragons and castles. Brightly colored sparks flying from pieces of wood. They all ended in fire and blood and death. War. So much death.
Harry woke up crying or screaming on more than one night, and mumbled to himself over and over that he didn’t want to remember.
At work, he was the pinnacle of professionalism. He once again filed a search warrant for Barnes’s office and for his house and captured two new laptops. Neither search got him close to solving the case, but it made Randall keep the case open.
Harry should have been more surprised when he opened his door one day and found Draco standing in the hall.
“What?”
Draco raised his eyebrows and Harry sighed and moved to the side to let him in.
“What?” he asked, a little less demanding.
“This is ridiculous.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is. You didn’t even break up with me.”
“I tell you that I hate you and I don’t want to remember you and you imply that isn’t breaking up with you?”
“You never said you didn’t want to remember me.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Why not?”
Harry glared at him. “Because I don’t.”
“Too painful?”
“Too confusing. You’re confusing me.”
“I think you’re confusing yourself.” Draco reached into his pocket and pulled something out of it, but he kept his hand closed. “You need to remember, because if you forget-”
“I don’t want to remember.”
“Do you think people will forget you? Do you think the people you have saved have forgotten you? Do you think the people you have helped as a police officer have forgotten you?”
“No, but that’s their problem.”
Draco stared at him for another moment and then went by him. He put something on his side table and then stormed out and slammed the door.
Harry stood in the middle of his living room, breathing deeply. On his table, mixed with his car keys, badge and loose change was a golden ball. Harry moved over to it carefully and picked it up slowly. It was lighter than he thought it would be and glimmered in the light. He remembered his dreams. The flying ones chasing something gold and glittery. He shook his head roughly. It was a dream.
There was an engraving on one side, written in fanciful script. I open at the close.
Harry had no idea what it meant. He put the ball down and moved away from it.
Part 6: A Flood of Memories
Part 4: A Plethora of Emotions
Part 3: A Night of Questions
Part 2: A Reoccurence of Dreams
Part 1: A Meeting of Equals
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